


Time For Tea

by Tabbyluna



Series: Fictober 2020 [14]
Category: Skylanders (Video Games)
Genre: Attempt at horror, Gen, Haunted Houses, Horror, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbyluna/pseuds/Tabbyluna
Summary: While on the road to a mission, Deja Vu had to stay at a mysterious inn.
Series: Fictober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947136
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Time For Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is an attempt at horror. It is close to Halloween, after all. Though honestly, I'm not sure whether I actually wrote something scary, or something merely spooky. I don't often write horror.

Déjà Vu was supposed to head towards some ghost town out in the middle of nowhere to help out the villagers there. They had some sort of enchanted clock tower, and there was something wrong with it which made everyone living there trapped in a time loop. The village probably would have been stuck that way for all of eternity, if it weren’t for a friendly traveller. They noticed something was up, and so they ended up calling the Skylanders for help. 

This was the sort of problem that fell right under Déjà Vu’s area of expertise. So of course she was sent. But the problem was that it was a long journey to the village. Though she left the M.A.P at dawn, by evening there was still quite a long way to go.

Of course, since she was feeling rather tired, she decided to find a place to sleep. She had brought her own tent and sleeping bag with her, just in case she needed to sleep outdoors. But she had ended up in a rather dark forest area. Rumour had it that tons of feral animals lived in those woods, and Déjà Vu knew that with her anxieties, the fear of getting attacked by one of those animals while she was asleep would mean that if she were to sleep outside, she wouldn’t get any sleep at all.

So she walked a little further, hoping to find a nearby town. You could only imagine her surprise when she found a hotel after only fifteen more minutes of walking.

It wasn’t a very pleasant looking hotel. In fact, from the broken windows to the overgrown grass surrounding it to the roof which looked like it was about to collapse, everything about the place screamed ‘you better leave now’. But she was surrounded by miles and miles of forest. Who knows how long it would take to get to the nearest town? And with the sun setting, and the ever lingering threat of feral animals (she could fend for herself, but being tired and alone would make things far more dangerous than she was willing to risk), she figured that staying the night in a place which  _ looked _ haunted, but  _ might not be _ , was her safest bet. 

When she entered the building, choking, dusty air filled her lungs and made her eyes water. It was like entering a crypt. And right in front of her, the only items in the room, was a desk made out of rotting wood, and a creaky old chair. On the desk lay an old book, with pages yellow and covered in holes. And on the chair sat a bony, short woman, pale with pupiless eyes and pale pink hair. Despite the wrinkles on her face and her body, she dressed in a crop top and a short skirt and tied her hair up in twintails. The wrinkles all looked artificially pasted on too. As if she had been aged up through force rather than through natural means.

“Hello?” went Déjà Vu, crossing the creaking wooden floor. She wasn’t sure how big she wanted her steps to be when she walked, only that she feared stopping, and that every step felt like she was walking into something mysterious. Though she could see the floor right in front of her, it felt hard to walk, as if she had no idea what she was walking into. “I… The sign outside said that this was a hotel. So… Can I have a room? Are you open for business?”

The woman’s glassy eyes finally met Déjà Vu’s. And without another word, she ducked down, making a gross cracking noise, and came up again holding a key in her palm. Without another word, or even blinking, she dropped the key into Déjà Vu’s palm. Then resumed staring into space.

Déjà Vu checked the room number attached to the key (room 405), left a few coins on the desk, and then walked upstairs via a rickety old staircase. Unsure about what else to say.

*****

The room had a small bed, creaky and with sheets covered with moth holes. There were no curtains, and a bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling. There was a small bedside table with a single piece of paper, and a dried-out ballpoint pen. On the paper, there were scratches, but Déjà Vu could not make out what they were saying. There was a cupboard, meant to store luggage, but all that it held were a few broomsticks and a mop.

It was better than nothing at least. So she tried to make herself comfortable on her bed. Which was quite a difficult task, considering how much dust there was. When she sat down, a cloud of dust rose from the mattress. 

Regardless, she elected to ignore that. Feral animals on the outside and all. She pulled out a flask from her pack of items, and poured out some tea for her to calm her nerves. It was something new she was trying. Drinking this supposedly relaxing blend whenever she got the jitters. Mags recommended it to her, and she had to admit, even if it might be a placebo, it did help a little. She removed her mask, hung it above her head, and took tiny sips of it while warily looking around the room.

Despite her attempts at being cautious though, she still ended up spilling her tea. It splashed right onto the dusty grey carpet. Quite a lot of it too. 

Some of it ended up on her lap, which was why she got up. She walked over to her backpack, and searched for a rag. Déjà Vu often kept one on her when walking to missions, since rags were a good way to wipe off sweat. The bag was only a couple of inches away from the bed.

She found it, and wiped herself off quickly. Then she closed up her flask and stuffed it into the bag. This was a sign that she really ought to go to bed. In the morning, things should be alright again.

But when she turned around, she saw that a couple of inches from where she had been squatting, the tea spill on the carpet was gone. There was not a single trace of wetness. Not even the smell of tea. In fact, the spill was completely cleaned up. Left in its place was a perfect circle in the original colour of the carpet. Apparently, under that thick layer of dusty grey, the carpet was a bright, bloody, scarlet red.

**Author's Note:**

> If my calculations are correct, I have written 50% of the Skylanders stories on AO3. Which makes me happy. And I find it neat that I wrote about my favourite Skylander while doing it.


End file.
